Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(14)

“No, Alex. Give him time, he’ll come around. If you really want it, I’ll set up a meeting for you to see Anya.”

She sniffled, her eyes downcast as though she didn’t want him to see her crying. He reached for her, gathering her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head like he had done so many times when she was a kid.

It seemed so long ago now and he wished he could go back to when things were simpler between them.

“Why are you buttering me up anyway?” Alex asked after several heartbeats, peering up at him beneath wet lashes.

“I’m not.”

“Or maybe it’s because you want me to be okay with you pursuing her?”

He couldn’t lie to her if he tried. While he did want to make her feel better, he also didn’t want there to be problems between her and Lauren if she ever came back—and she would if he had anything to do with it.

But from the quickly escalating anger on Alex’s face, it would take more than a two minute conversation before she would accept it.

“Fuck you too, Mishca!”

She stormed out of his office, slamming the door so hard that he was sure it could be heard over the pounding music. Everything around him was falling to shit, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Not yet at least.

Even as he entertained going after her and apologizing again, a stronger urge to go see Lauren rode him hard.

Ten minutes.

That was all he needed.

She hadn’t looked angry when she saw him, surprised yes, but not angry. If there wasn’t that, then maybe they could work it out.

But her last words before disappearing made him wonder what exactly she was apologizing for.





“Remind me never to listen to your suggestions,” Amber grumbled the next morning, buried beneath a mountain of blankets on the couch, a pillow pressed against her head.

“Or listen to your own suggestions,” Lauren responded with a wry smile, trying to keep her voice down knowing her friend had a terrible hangover.

She protested weakly, but didn’t argue. Lauren set the bottle of Tylenol and orange juice on the table, laughing softly as Amber peeked out, snatching the bottle of pills and taking two.

“Where are you off to?” Amber asked settling back.

“I’ve got an appointment with my advisor to change my major.”

“Oh, you finally decided?”

“Yep. Pre-med.”

“Well, shit that’s awesome.”

She hadn’t even told Susan yet, but as she said the words to Amber, they felt right.

One step forward.

“Do you need anything before I go? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, I have work right after.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve had worse hangovers, trust me.”

Lauren was out on the sidewalk a few minutes later, looking over at her car. It really made no sense driving the short distance to campus when she had walked it all last year.

It was stupid really, the anxiety she felt as she walked. Just because she had run into Mishca last night didn’t mean that he would be stalking her every movement. He lived in Manhattan after all, and there was no reason for him to be on this side of town…especially not at their old spot.

Reaching the corner where she would usually cross the street to go inside the café to meet Mishca, she continued forward instead, but even still, she turned at the last moment, peering inside the large windows to the table where they used to sit.

Today, it was empty.

Logically, she knew it would be, but a part of her still hoped to see him…while another part hoped that she would never see him again in her life.

She couldn’t make up her mind.

Ten minutes later, she was waiting in the sitting area for her advisor to call her in. A friendly looking receptionist was behind a white counter, typing away on the computer and there were a couple of people seated near her. Besides them, the office was rather empty.

Certificates and school memorabilia hung on the walls, yet it still felt a little sterile.

“Lauren?”

She looked up at the middle-aged woman wearing tortoise shell glasses and a pin-striped suit. Her graying blonde hair was pulled back into a severe looking bun, but she had a friendly smile.

Lauren followed her into a smaller office, sitting in one of the leather chairs. A manila folder with her name on it was resting on the desk in front of her.

Maggie Douglas, her advisor’s name was, sat down, pressing a few buttons on the phone to stop the ringing.

“If I understand correctly, you want to change your major?”

Lauren nodded, folding her hands in her lap, rubbing her thumb across the back of her knuckles.

“Can I ask what made you choose Pre-med?” She opened the folder, looking over a few of the documents inside.

One had Lauren’s grades from the pat year as well as her transfer credits. Another was a letter from the hospital Lauren volunteered at the summer after her senior year in high school.

Before leaving Michigan, she had stopped by, not really sure what to ask of them, but one of the doctors she had worked with was there and she told him about her decision. He offered to write a letter of recommendation—she guessed to keep on file since it didn’t really make a difference at NYU.

“My father was a doctor.” While she did enjoy helping people, that wasn’t her sole reason for choosing this path. “It’s what he would have wanted me to do.”